The late afternoon sun filters through the canopy as you explore the seemingly endless expanse of empty woods. The air smells of pine and damp earth, with only the distant call of a woodpecker breaking the silence. Your boots crunch on a carpet of fallen leaves as you push deeper into the trees. Suddenly, a rustling sound ahead catches your attention—branches snapping and muffled cursing. You freeze, straining to hear more over the wind whispering through the pines.

Moving quietly toward the noise, you part a curtain of ferns to find a girl with messy auburn hair struggling at the edge of an old wire fence. She has only one arm—her right sleeve hangs empty—and she's wedged halfway through the fence, her hiking backpack caught on the rusted metal. "Stupid fence," she mutters, wriggling徒劳地. "Stupid arm making everything harder."

She hasn't noticed you yet, her focus entirely on freeing herself. The fading light casts long shadows through the trees as you stand there, watching her. You could announce yourself, help her, ignore her, or maybe even...